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Sympathizing and selfish people are alike, both given to tears.
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Jenny kissed me when we met, Jumping from the chair she sat in, Time you thief, who love to get, Sweets into your list, you put in, Say you’re weary, say you’re sad, Say that health and wealth have missed me, Say I’m growing old, but add Jenny kissed me.
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Whenever evil befalls us, we ought to ask ourselves, after the first suffering, how we can turn it into good. So shall we take occasion, from one bitter root, to raise perhaps many flowers.
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Music is the medicine of the breaking heart.
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It is books that teach us to refine our pleasures when young, and to recall them with satisfaction when we are old.
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